


A spider in my bed

by shyannasaur



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Biting, Drunk Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, Let's assume the reader uses some kind of birth control, Love Confession, Mild Body Worship, Mild Masochism, Mild Nipple Play, Pet Names, Porn With Plot, be safe kiddies, cunniligus, dont worry Dean took care of him lol, fwb relationship, hidden love, tw: past abusive relationship, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 12:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6754228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyannasaur/pseuds/shyannasaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've been in love with the older Winchester brother ever since you met him, but because your feelings aren't returned, you fill the hole in your heart by having a friends-with-benefits relationship with Sam. Will all of that change when Dean comes knocking at your bedroom door?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A spider in my bed

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!! So this is both my first oneshot and my first Dean/reader fic; I worked really hard (heh, no pun intended) on this, so I hope you guys enjoy it! Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated xoxo
> 
> Got a request? Inbox me!!!!! I'm up for almost any challenge.
> 
> Are you a Castiel girl? Even if you're not, check out my ongoing fic "And Flowers Die" and leave some feedback please ^u^

You kick your heels off the moment you walk through the bunker door. Instead of walking down the stairs like any civilized person would do, you opt for sliding down the rails for the sake of your aching feet and having a last bit of fun before heading to your room.  
"Y/n, you _really_ shouldn't do that. Especially after as many drinks as we've all had," Sam remarks as he quickly follows you down the stairs, arms prepared to snag you from falling backwards and breaking something if you lose balance. When you two finally reach the bottom, his assumptions are proven right when you stand and trip on the last step. Before your face can collide with the ground however, you feel a firm grip catch your waist and bring you to your feet. You look up to see Sam scanning you up and down; your unsure if his gaze is looking for injuries or using that as an excuse to check you out. Either way, you don't mind; it certainly wouldn't be the first time the younger brother's eyes have lingered over you. "Thanks Sammy," you say, smile still bubbling with alcohol. Sam smiles back, and before your interaction can go any further, Dean clears his throat behind you both. You and Sam break up and you awkwardly chuckle to ease tention. You stand up straight on faintly sore muscles and stretch your arms, feeling your dress slightly hike up your thighs. You turn around just barely quick enough to see Dean's eyes dart away from your dress' hemline, choosing to look at an apparently _much_ more interesting painting on the wall. Before you even get the chance to be disappointed, Sam breaks your trail of thought by placing a hand on your shoulder.  
"I'm still pretty hammered, so if I have any chance of avoiding a hangover, then I need to get some sleep." Sam rubs a few small circles on your shoulder with his thumb before his hand leaves it, and he walks down the hall toward his bedroom. You turn to Dean and find his eyes are still avoiding your gaze, his face locked in troubled thoughts. "I guess that's true for us, too. We should hit the hay before we feel like total crap," you say as you nudge your head towards the bedrooms in attempt to lighten the mood. "Yea, or more than we already do," the older Winchester says under his breath. Okay, something's obviously up with Dean. You hate seeing him upset; his odd behavior triggers your own, causing your brow to furrow. You open your mouth to ask what's bothering him, but before you can, he starts his long strides that you can never keep up with down the hall. "Goodnight, y/n." You stand in the same spot, watching Dean with worry in your eyes until he enters and practically slams his bedroom door closed. You tear your eyes away, look to your bare feet and sigh a heavy breath. Dean has more stubbornness in his pinky finger than a mule has in its whole body, and as much as you'd like to kick down his door and demand he talk to you, it wouldn't do much more than make him mad. You make the long walk alone to your bedroom at the end of the hall; two rooms away from Sam's bedroom and three away from Dean's. You walk into your room and gently shut the door, taking a moment to linger with your back against the wood. You then walk to your bed and fall down onto it, and your body sinks into the fluffy comforters and sheets.  
You and Sam have been seeing each other for about three months now. And if by "seeing each other" you mean "getting drunk, making out and fooling around once in a while", then that is definitely the right term to use. You and the younger brother have made it clear that neither of you want anything serious, but living the lives you live only gives leeway for one night stands with random strangers chock full of God-only-knows-what STDs. So, the safest and most comfortable option for you both is to relieve your frustrations on someone who's comfortable with having a FWB relationship. Since you and Sam already had a solid friendship going, you were already halfway there. You two haven't had sex or used your mouths on anything but each other's lips though; you've both agreed getting hansy is enough to keep each other satisfied. Besides, it isn't the younger Winchester you're hopelessly in love with...  
Ever since the night you met Dean, you knew this man was going to own your heart on a leash for the rest of your life. You turn over in your bed and stare at your ceiling with blank eyes, reminiscing the memory you hold onto so dearly.  
You were walking home with your current dick boyfriend from a pub down the street from his apartment. He had too many drinks, and he tended to get violent when he was shit-faced. You had accidentally left your phone at the bar and wanted to go back and get it, but your boyfriend wasn't having it; he grabbed your wrist hard enough to bruise it, and told you that you'll just have to live without it. You ripped your wrist away from his grasp and began to walk back to the bar, but he grabbed your shoulder and yanked you back to face him, and said that you shouldn't "dare leave him there like this." At this point, all the pent up feelings of being unsatisfied and being pushed around for months finally broke through, and you said you really were leaving him like this, but for good. He looked dumbfounded momentarily, but took on a look of rage once he understood you had just ended the relationship. Before you could blink, his palm collided _hard_ with your cheek; so hard, it knocked you to the ground. He had gotten rough with you before, but never had he _actually_ hit you in the past. You sat on the cold asphalt, blood dripping from a fresh split on your bottom lip as you watched him in shock and fear. He towered over you and pulled back his hand to land another hit, but before he could get any closer, a man in a worn leather jacket tackled and slammed him into the concrete wall of a nearby shop. The man formed a fist and hit your ex directly in the nose, and you could hear the crunching of cartilage as it broke. The man punched him again and again, and once your ex was fully yielded, the man pulled him up by his collar, his feet dangling just over the ground. "If you _ever_ do this to her again, hell, if you ever even _look_ in her direction again, I will find you and do a lot worse than this, do you understand me?" the man threatened as he pressed your ex harder into the wall. He have a weak nod and the man in the leather jacket immediately dropped him to the floor in a bloody heap. The man quickly walked over to you and offered you a hand, which you gratefully accepted. When you stood, you found that one of your heels had broken in the fall; this almost caused you to fall back to the asphalt, but the man quickly wrapped his arms around you and held you until you regained balance. Your eyes met his, and you were almost startled by the piercing golden-green stare that met yours. He gave you a quick smile as he wiped the blood off your chin.  
"Hi. I'm Dean."  
And from that point on, your life changed forever. Not only did the boys take you in and teach you all about hunting, but you found your soulmate as well.  
Well, at least that's what you hoped for back then. You've been with the boys about a year and a half now, and Dean has never treated you as anything more than a close friend; which, of course, cuts you to the core every time you think about it. The man you've fallen head over heels for has made it clear that he doesn't want any more from you than what you two already have; if the constant chasing of run-down bar tail isn't a clear sign, or him never reacting to your attempts at shy hints, than him never trying anything seals the deal. And yet, you just _can't_ seem to fall out of love with Dean; every time you try, he does something to make you come back falling at his feet once more. So, to fill the ache for him that your heart demands, you settle for relieving sexual frustration out on his brother. Not the best thing to do admitting it out loud to yourself, but if Dean doesn't want you the way you do him, you can at least pretend you're trying to get over it when you're with Sam. And with that, you come full circle in your mind, the same way you have every night since you and Sam started whatever you did. You finally stand up from your bed with a long sigh, and accept your fate of a God-awful hangover in the morning. You walk to your dresser and pull out some pajamas: a pair of soft pj shorts and one of Dean's old t-shirts; the same one he gave you to wear the first night you spent with them in the bunker. You turn off the main light in your room, using the soft glow of your bedside lamp as an attempt to help you get sleepier. You unzip your dress and it drops to the floor in a heap as you unhook your bra. You then toss both articles of clothing across the room to your hamper, which you never seem to actually make inside the basket. You slide on the shorts and are reaching for the t-shirt when you hear a soft knock at your door. Before you can react, the door opens and you quickly snatch the shirt to cover you. You twirl around to see Dean standing in your doorway. Even in the dim light, you can see his widened eyes and a blush start to form across his cheeks; you feel one creeping onto your face as well.  
"Dean!" You squeak, trying to cover as much of your bare skin with the shirt as possible.  
"Oh s-shit," Dean stutters as he quickly turns around and stares out into the hall. "Fuck. Sorry, y/n. Th-the light was off so I thought you were asleep. Crap I'm sorry," Dean apologizes as he harshly rakes a hand through his hair and swears under his breath. You stand there, both embarrassed and dumbfounded, before you sigh and grip the shirt tighter.  
"Hold on. Stay exactly where you are and don't turn around," you demand. Dean puts up both hands in an innocent manner and keeps his gaze outside your doorframe. You give him one last glance before you quickly throw the t-shirt over your head and pull it down over your exposed chest. You sigh once more and cross your arms.  
"Okay, you can turn around now."  
Dean slowly turns his body and only looks at you for a fraction of a second before darting his eyes around the room.  
"I-uh... I just wanted to... I'm sorry," he admits once again. Weird, Dean isn't one to apologize, yet they're spilling out of his mouth like he can't control it. "I should've waited for a response before I came in." You roll your eyes in attempt to appear upset, but you can never really stay mad at Dean.  
"Yea, you really should've. You would have seen something you don't wanna see," you say with a small chuckle to cover up the ache in your chest from your words. Dean doesn't laugh, but instead glances at you for a single second before darting his gaze somewhere else in your bedroom. You both stand there in silence for a few moments, Dean scratching the back of his head and you picking at the hem of your shorts. Things are never awkward between you and Dean... why are they now?  
"I uhm... I wanted to know if you'd be cool with me crashing in here for the night," Dean questions, now significantly quieter than before. There's an innocent look behind his firm eyes that makes your knees almost give out, and your blush starts to rapidly return at the proposal. "Wha? But why would you-"  
"There's a spider in my bed, okay? And-and I can't find the fucker to kill it," Dean admits, raking another hand through his hair. Your eyebrows raise in shock, and before long, you start giggling.  
"What? You don't like spiders either!" Dean exclaims, trying to defend his masculinity. This only makes you giggle more. "Oh my god, you're serious? The man that has no problem killing all the evils in the world can't share a bed with a tiny spider for one night?" You say, now sitting in the edge of your bed as you laugh at the thought.  
"You wouldn't either!" Dean exclaims. He looks to the floor before taking a step back out of your room, which immediately ceases your amusement. "You know what, just forget it. This was a stupid idea; I'll just sleep on the floor." At this point you realize laughing wasn't the best thing to do, because it may have costed a night in the same bed as the man you adore. The older Winchester begins to close your bedroom door, but you spring from your bed and extend an arm in protest.  
"Dean, no wait hold on!" You say, and he stops just inches before shutting your door. He slowly opens it once again, and his heart-melting gaze meets yours and holds it for the first time tonight.  
"I'm sorry," you start, taking a step forward. "I shouldn't have laughed, that was mean. You can sleep in here tonight if you still want to." You blush at your own words, still extending an arm in a pleading stance. Dean looks to the floor in uncertainty and swallows hard, before sighing and finally stepping back inside; now completely shutting the door behind him. The click of the door makes your heart flutter. You take a stabilizing breath and walk to the left side of your bed, pulling back the covers and sitting on the edge. Dean does the same on the opposite side, but opts for standing instead.  
"We can sleep on opposite ends too if you'd feel better with that," you suggest. As much as you would love to sleep face-to-face with Dean, you're afraid you might kiss him in your sleep. Dean takes a moment to think about your words before nodding.  
"Yea, okay."  
You take your pillow and place it at the foot of your bed, body still heated with blush as you climb into it and pull the covers over you. Dean gingerly sits on the side of your bed, and swings a leg to get in, but stops just before it hits the mattress.  
"If this makes you feel weird, just tell me and I'll leave," he solemnly says, avoiding your eye contact once more. You gently nod your head, thinking that this is the _last_ thing that would make you uncomfortable in any way. Your nod gives Dean the final say-so to climb fully into your bed. He turns off the lamp as he pulls the covers over himself, then turns away from you.  
Neither of you stay goodnight, but you guess it doesn't matter, since for the next two hours you two keep waking up to the other's feet in your faces.  
Dean sighs a loud breath, and sits up a little from the bed so he can look at you. "Okay look, this obviously isn't working since we keep getting mouthfuls of each other's toes. Just get back up here and we'll never speak of this again." You sit up from the end of your bed and thank the stars that it's dark enough in your room to hide the nervous look on your face. It takes you a minute to feel your legs again, but once you do, you slowly get out of bed, put your pillow at the head of your mattress, and carefully get back in the covers; being sure not to make any physical contact with Dean. Your heart aches for his arms to wrap around you and for you to tangle your legs with his, but you fear it'll only push him away from you further, so you'll just have to settle with feeling the faint warmth of him from across the mattress. You turn over in the bed and face away from him (again, don't want to kiss him in your sleep), and you feel the bed shift; you presume he did the same. Neither of you say goodnight again, and you stare at the wall while listening to your breathing. After a few minutes of deafening silence, quiet and careful words break through.  
"Do you love him?"  
The sudden break of silence catches you off guard, and the question even more so, but you don't turn to face Dean. Instead, you furrow your brow at the wall in confusion.  
"W-what?" You ask, wanting to make sure you really did hear what you had.  
"I said..." You hear Dean start as there's more shifting in the bed.  
"Do. You. Love. Him?" he repeats, punctuating every word to make sure you hear him correctly.  
You slowly turn around in your bed, and once you do, you find you're face-to-face with Dean; you're so close to him that you can feel his warm breaths dance across your face. Even in the darkness of your room, the flecks of gold in his stare pierce right through you. His eyes are glazed and his face is firm, waiting for you to give him an answer. You start to blush as you try to form a coherent sentence.  
"Wha? No. I mean, I don't know. Who are we talking about exactly?" You ask, not entirely sure where this is heading.  
"Sam. I know what you two have been doing, and I know that it's probably been goin' on a while," Dean says, never taking his eyes off yours.  
"So are you two together? Are you in love with him? Don't you dare lie to me," Dean demands, his voice sounding like it's having trouble staying level. Your heart hurts to see Dean in this much distress, so you tell him the honest truth.  
"No, Sam and I are not together. I don't love him," you reassure.  
"Then why are you two humping like rabbits behind my back?" Dean begins to take on a look of frustration as your nose scrunches at the accusation.  
"We're _not_ sleeping together, Dean. We... fool around sometimes, nothing more. I just..."  
You trail off, breaking your gaze with Dean and opting to look down under the covers; you notice that you and Dean's bodies are less than five inches away from each other, and yet not a single square inch of either of you is making contact with the other.  
"I can't sleep with your brother; I don't want to because I don't love him," you finish in a timid, quiet tone. You can feel Dean's eyes boring holes into you, but you can't bring yourself to look at him just yet. Dean expels a heavy breath.  
"When I look into your eyes, I can tell you're in love with somebody. As much as I know you'd like to deny it, you know you can't hide that kind of stuff y/n. I also know the you're not the kinda' girl who would want more than one dancing partner, so if you're not fooling around with Sam because you love him, then why _are_ you if you have somebody you already love?"  
"Because the man I love doesn't love me back," your voice trembles as you quickly answer without hesitation. When you look up at Dean, your eyes cut through the darkness; your tear ducts betray you and hot tears begin to stream down your face. Dean is taken back by the sudden emotion, but it soon melts into concern when he wipes away your tears with his thumb.  
"C'mere," he quietly says.  
Dean wedges an arm under your head and offers another one over your torso, and he pulls you into his chest as your cries continue. Dean has held you while you've cried before, but this time is different; you're crying about the man you love not loving you, while that very man is holding you...  
God, you're a mess.  
Dean lets your tears fall onto his chest for several minutes. He rubs your back and rests his chin on the top of your head, and your sobs eventually die down to a small sniffle. "Y/n," he gently says as you wipe away the remaining tears. "Yes?" you meekly ask. Dean pulls away from you just enough so your face can meet his; he's so close you can feel his heartbeat thumping loudly in his chest.  
"Do you love me?"  
The words pierce straight to your heart, and your whole body radiates heat as tears fill your eyes again. You're absolutely terrified and you feel like you're heart might explode, but nothing else matters in this moment but Dean. It seems like it's always been about Dean. You weakly nod.  
Before you can even try to explain yourself, however, Dean's hand wraps around the back of your head and pulls your face to his; his lips all but slamming into yours. You instinctively melt into him and find your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. You and Dean's lips move in perfect motion; pressing into each other, then pulling back slightly, just to press deeper into each other than before. His hands grip the back of your shirt and hair, but not nearly hard enough to cause damage. As the kisses deepen, you finally question exactly _why_ Dean is suddenly so okay with this. "Dean," you mutter through kisses; not wanting to break away from him, but needing answers. "Wait." Dean gives you one final kiss before finally pulling away. "What's wrong?" He asked, fear now filling his face as though maybe he shouldn't have made a move. "Nothing; nothing's wrong," you reassure. "It's just, I need to say this before anything else." His brow furrows and before he can say anything, you continue.  
"All this time I've been with you and Sam in the bunker, I've tried getting your attention. You've never acted interested; you always seemed like you wanted nothing more than friendship from me, and just wanted to pick up girls for one night stands. But when I try, but fail, to move on from you, you suddenly want everything I've been willing to give to you since the beginning. What changed, Dean?"  
Dean's face changes from a look of concern to a look of anger. Oh no, maybe you shouldn't have said anyth-  
Your train if thought is cut off by Dean's lips colliding into yours; his kisses hard and demanding. You kiss back as he pulls your body flush to his, and you feel as though his heart is going to beat out of his chest. Dean mumbles words that you barely catch in between your lips.  
"I've always-"  
"Wanted-"  
"You."  
Dean's hand tangles in your hair as you pull him as close as you possibly can. "Ever since the night we met," he mumbles as his hand drifts to your cheek. "I've wanted you. Every time I had a stranger in my bed-" Dean begins to sit up and pulls you up with him. "I thought about you. I didn't want to put the team at risk-"  
His hands drift down to your waist and grip you gently but firmly; as if you'll disappear if he lets go. "I thought you couldn't possibly love someone like me, that you deserved better." Dean pulls you into his lap, and his hand drifts to the small of your back to pull you flush against him once more. "But when I found out about you and Sam, something snapped in me. I don't give a fuck about any of that; not anymore. I _need_ you to know how I feel. I love you, y/n. Always have, always will."  
Your hands rest on Dean's forearms and tears start reforming in the corners of your eyes. You throw your arms around his neck and your lips crash with his once again. "I love you too, Dean," you mumble in between your mouths. Dean's grip on your waist gets slightly tighter as you adjust yourself in his lap. Once you move up, you feel his excitement take form against your thigh, just under the thin fabric of his pajama pants. You pull away from his kiss just enough to see his expression shift, going from pleading and raw to hungry and desperate. Dean pulls you back to him and attempts to deepen the kiss by flicking his tongue against your lips, to which you gladly give him access. His tongue pasts your lips and enters your mouth, thoroughly exploring the cavity and relishing in the faint flavor of alcohol on you. Your tongues dance and curl together, and Dean's taste is driving you mad; he tastes like cheap whiskey and something you can only describe as Dean. His hands gingerly move up the back of your shirt. His fingers caress your spine and shoulders, before he gently rakes them back down to the small of your back. Your response is a soft mew, to which he swallows whole. He repeats the motion until you are both panting messes searching for more skin to touch. Dean grabs the end of his shirt and pulls it over his head in one quick motion, leaving you in total awe of his sculpted abs and strong pectorals. Dean motions to the hem of your shirt when he hesitates momentarily.  
"Is this... my shirt?" He questions; a dorky, yet hungry smile forming on his lips. You smile and stifle a giggle from embarrassment, and give him a small nod. He looks from the hem of the shirt up at you with total endearment and a hint of amusement in his eyes. You smile and kiss him. Dean pulls up your shirt almost painfully slowly; for every inch of fabric he pulls up, he spends a solid ten seconds running his hands across your exposed skin, as though he wants to engrave the way every inch of you feels in his mind. When he _finally_ reaches the edges of your breasts, instead of just uncovering them, he rubs around the sides as he kisses you. He slowly works his way inward, not only to raise the tension in the air, but to give you an amazing massage. He ultimately reaches _just_ before your nipples, but stops before he gets any closer. This makes you whine in protest and press your breasts further into his hands. Dean chuckles against your eager lips. "Be patient."  
Dean slowly moves your shirt up and over your breasts, and your nipples immediately harden in the cool air. Dean gently pulls the shirt over your head and tosses it in the same direction as he did his. Your heart rate picks up as he runs his hands up and down your sides.  
"My God," Dean says under his breath; making you a little nervous as his eyes wander your exposed skin.  
"You look so beautiful right now."  
You blush in the dark room, and Dean pulls you down to him. He gives you a quick peck on the lips before moving across your jawline. His lips wander down your neck, nibbling softly after every kiss. He plants kisses across your collarbone and peppers your chest with small pecks before finally reaching your breasts. Dean wraps one hand around your waist to your back to steady you, and uses the other to gently knead and massage your breast. Due to no physical touching whatsoever, your nipples are now charged with sensitivity; Dean proves this theory of this by flicking a single index finger over one. This sends goosebumps all over your skin, and you accidentally moan right in his ear. Dean seems satisfied with your reaction, giving a low chuckle, so lowers his head and latches his lips around one nipple, his fingers around the other in one swift motion. You cry out at the sudden contact, and Dean hums in contentment as he gently sucks, nibbles and pinches. You feel him swirl his tongue around the bud, and with every movement your pants become more pleading. He gives you a particularly firm nip at your flesh, and this causes you to grind down on his lap. You feel his member twitch under you and Dean growls against your skin. "D-Dean, I need...need more..." you plead. You're head is swimming and you're not even sure what you're asking for, but all you know is that you _need_ more friction. Dean seems to understand this, and using the hand on your back, he slowly lowers you to the mattress, never letting his lips and teeth leave your nipple. Once you're laying flat, he finally releases your flesh from his mouth, his lips puffy and swollen from use. His eyes flicker up to you, and you feel the heat between your thighs twitch. Dean positions himself so he's hovering over you. He lowers himself and begins kissing down your torso, starting in the valley between your breasts, down to your belly button, all the way to the top hemline of your shorts. Dean slides his thumbs under your shorts and pulls them down a few inches before stopping. "You haven't changed your mind right?" Dean questions, his joking manner taking undertones of seriousness. You look down and take a moment to relish in his beauty; his disheveled hair, hungry eyes, swollen lips, toned muscles. He looks like a Greek god; made to be perfect in every way.  
"I've never wanted anything but this," you say with confidence. Dean accepts your answer and continues to slide your shorts off your legs, covering the newly exposed skin with kisses. Once your shorts are completely off, Dean climbs back up to meet your face. Dean lowers and supports himself on his right forearm so he doesn't put all his weight on you, and his lips find yours once again. His left hand drifts down between your breasts, taking a moment to rub your nipples, before reaching your underwear's hemline. His fingers skim over the fabric's edge, just light enough to get your heart racing. His hand drives lower and lower, each time just skimming above the fabric, until he reaches the area that's been begging for his touch. He gently rubs the little bud through your panties and it makes you moan into his mouth once again. He gently flicks his finger against you, occasionally softly pinching your clit against the unforgiving fabric. Dean's fingers eventually drift lower and one just barely slips under your panties. You gasp in surprise as it finds your entrance, and he gently inserts just the first segment of his finger into you before immediately pulling it back out. You hear your own wetness sound from between your legs as his finger pulls out of your underwear, and you feel him smirk against your open mouth as he pulls just centimeters away.  
"Damn, y/n. That didn't take much did it?"  
You can't form coherent words, so you simply shake your head in agreement. Dean smiles and rests his forehead on yours.  
"Well, I guess I'd be one to talk, huh?"  
Before you can question what he means, Dean shifts his weight so he's directly over you, then gently lowers his body onto yours. You feel his rock-solid cock through his pajamas rub against the thin fabric of your panties, and this only makes you wetter. "We've both been waiting too long for this," Dean says almost precariously. You stare into each other's eyes for a moment, before your lips come together, full of lust and love. Dean's hand glides down and pulls one of your legs up around his hip, and your other leg soon follows. Dean's tongue finds its way back into your mouth, and yours eventually in his. Dean rocks his hips against you, giving just barely enough friction with every movement. After a few minutes of grinding, Dean pulls away and you are both left breathless.  
"I need to taste you. _Now._ " Dean growls. "Please," he adds to soften his demand when you don't answer right away.  
One look from his golden-green eyes was all you needed to give him the okay to move on. Dean quickly undoes the tie of his pants and pulls them down. Your eyes widen as you follow his V down to his leaking, twitching cock. Dean hooks his thumbs under your panties, and with one final nod from you, he pulls them down your thighs. He tosses both of your garments to the side and presses a palm to both your kneecaps. He gently spreads your legs open wide and lowers his head just above your heat, making you a little embarrassed, until you hear him mumble something too quiet for you to catch. "W-what?" You ask. Dean's eyes look up to you full of intimidation and raw love. He stares into your very core as he repeats himself louder so you can here.  
"I said; _all mine._ "  
And with that, Dean buries his face into your folds, and your hands instantly get lost in his hair as you gasp underneath his grip. One hand holds your thigh and the other reaches up to knead the sensitive flesh on your chest. His tongue gives you long and slow licks; starting low, he darts his tongue at your entrance, then flickers over your clit every time he reaches the top. He repeats this motion over and over, and it's not long after he starts that any logical thoughts you had left had been thrown wherever your clothes were. When Dean _finally_ comes up for air, his face is full of contentment, seeing as you have completely unraveled at his touch. "God, if only you knew how _amazing_ you taste. I could do this for hours."  
His hand leaves your thigh and inserts a finger into you, and starts gently stroking your walls as they grip him. Dean lowers his head to you once again, now combining his skilled tongue with his experienced hand. The knot in your stomach pulls tighter with every movement, but you tug his hair just a little more forcefully to get his attention. As much as you'd like to let him continue until you're shaking, both you and his excitement prodding at your leg have something else in mind.  
"Dean, I need.. you, please..." you beg again; only this time, you know _exactly_ what you want from him. Just as the words leave your mouth, Dean make his way back up to you almost reluctantly; his lips and face glistening with your wetness. You feel his leaking tip brush up against your entrance, and you rock your hips down in an attempt to get him to enter, but he pulls away. When you whine in response, he kisses you. You taste yourself on him, but you don't care; all you care about is getting the man you love inside you. You feel him gently align himself with your entrance again as he rests his forehead on yours, his breath ghosting along your lips.  
"I've been waiting so long to have you like this. Can we just start slow? I want to remember every second of this," Dean says with his signature rugged tone, his stare now turning back to pleading and unchained love. His words bring back just enough clarity to your thoughts; you kiss him and smile as you nod your head. Dean takes one last moment to drape your legs around his hips, and finally presses his length slowly into you. Once your warmth has encased his tip, a small moan escapes Dean's lips. He presses more of his length into you, and when he's about halfway in, he stops momentarily to let your inner walls get used to his girth. Once he's sure that he's not hurting you, Dean presses the rest of his cock deep into you, and again takes a moment to let you adjust to him. Dean then stills his hips for moment and kisses you with gentle, plump lips; you two sit there, bodies motionless except for your lips meeting and your sexes pulsing; breathing in each other's presences and embedding the feeling of each other in your minds. He then slowly pulls most of himself out, before completely burying his cock deep into you once more in one swift thrust, giving just enough pressure to make you gasp into his ear. Dean keeps a slow pace at first, wanting to take mental notes and pictures of all the faces and noises of sheer pleasure that you make. He rests his head in the crook of your neck, where he places an unlimited amount of kisses onto your skin with every thrust. Dean stops momentarily and pulls out, then leads you on top of him to straddle his hips. You realign his tip with your entrance and sink back onto him. You lower your forehead to meet his, and dean's hands snake around to your back as you bounce on top of him, quickening the pace with every few thrusts. His hands find your ass, where they grab handfuls of flesh and help you bounce on him. You rock your hips in a particularly good angle, and Dean instinctively opens his mouth and sinks his teeth gently into the flesh of your shoulder. The mild pain intensifies all the pleasure you're feeling; it makes you clench tightly around him and bounce quicker, making the position feel all that much better. Dean matches your bounces with upward thrusts of his own, and his fingers dig deep into the flesh of your backside. You both have a moderate pace going, but your legs begin to betray you soon enough; so when Dean notices you slowing, he quickly lays you back down on the bed; his member leaving you momentarily. He presses your legs open and you lay spread eagle on the bed, fully exposed to Dean and he buries himself into once again.  
"Don't want you getting tired, let me do the work, baby," Dean says as he sets a quicker pace than before. You watch his hips roll back and forth, his cock leaving you almost completely before disappearing into you again. Your eyes drive up his body; the glistening of his skin and determination of his hips only make the knot inside you pull tighter with every thrust. You reach up and run your fingers over his muscles, then flick your fingers experimentally over his nipples a few times. Dean seems to enjoy it, because a low growl comes from deep in his chest. You like the reaction you received, so you take a chance and slightly pinch them. You earn another grunt from Dean, but your confidence in taking the pleasurer's role is extinguished as his dark, animalistic stare bores into you. His hands leave your legs and he lowers himself to your level, never easing up on his thrusts. He now sets a merciless, unforgiving pace, and the sounds of skin hitting skin fill the air. Dean nudges your head to the side, and he licks up the side of your neck before his teeth dig into your flesh once more. He sucks hard at the nape of your neck, and your whimpers and pleas are now impossible to keep under wraps. You feel your orgasm quickly approaching, and your legs brace themselves by wrapping tight around Dean.  
"Dean, I... I'm close.." You manage to say as his mouth leaves your neck.  
"Cum, babydoll. Cum for me," Dean says breathlessly into your ear.  
"Cum _now_."  
His words are all it takes for you to be overwhelmed with pleasure, every muscle in your body tensing up and you contract around him. Dean's thrusts become inconsistent, but he still rams into you through your orgasm, your overly-sensitive sex taking every blow. Your fingers instinctively scrape down Dean's back, and this triggers his own release within seconds; his hot fluids mixing with yours as you both collapse into the mattress. You both sit there in a panting, sweaty heap as you feel Dean slowly soften inside you. You look at Dean with sated eyes, and he returns the expression as you kiss. Your lips come together gently and lovingly, your noses brushing every time your lips mold to each other. Dean's softened member leaves you and he rolls off of you. He pulls you with him to the head of your bed as your heads hit the pillows, sleep and contentment filling both your faces.  
Dean cuddles your body close to his as he pulls the sheets over you both, and your eyes catch his in a gentle gaze. "What?" He asks with a smile plastered on his face. "Nothing," you say, smiling back. "I just... I love you."  
Dean kisses your forehead and pulls your head into his chest, his steady heartbeat slowly lulling you closer to sleep. "I love you too, y/n. Looks like you'll be moving into my room then huh?" he teases. You chuckle softly against his chest. "Not if that spider is still in you bed," you joke. "I wouldn't mind though, moving into your room," you say as you blush, kissing Dean once again.  
"Speaking of which, thank god for that spider; if he hadn't paid your bed a visit, this might have never happened. I owe that little dude my life," you say, planting small kisses on Dean's pecks.  
"Yea.... About that..." Dean trails off. You look up to him quizzically, and his face is plastered with the biggest, goofiest smile as he scratches his head.  
"There was no spider."


End file.
